


Worship

by Notinthisfandom



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Begging, Biting, Blow Jobs, Choking, F/M, Loki in panties, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-25
Updated: 2013-08-25
Packaged: 2017-12-24 14:23:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/941029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Notinthisfandom/pseuds/Notinthisfandom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Loki wants is to be worshiped</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worship

**Author's Note:**

> Author is indulging herself and trying to kill time while insomnia keeps her awake. Unbeta'd.

“I have a surprise for you, Kitten,” Loki’s voice slithers into your ear. You can almost hear the filthy smile on his lips and you can certainly feel it on the back of your neck as well as his hardness against your backside.

“Oh?” You question. His body leaves yours and it seems he wants you to find out for yourself. He beckons you, you turn to find him sprawled across his throne. He has one arm loosely perched on the armrest, his legs spread, one leg outstretched, leather boot pointed to the corner, his head propped up by thumb and forefinger, elbow on the other armrest.

He stares at you, looking like he might rip you apart at any moment. Gold and black leather of his dress armor stretched across his chest, horns rising from his forehead, golden phalluses, metaphors for his ego. Or perhaps his cock. He likes to look his finest before he fucks you, and he liked you to look completely undone when he was finished with you.

With already shaking legs, you step toward him, standing before him, “On your knees.” he orders. You comply, waiting for his next command. He rises from his throne, and for just a second you think you might leap upon him right there were it not for the sight of him, dressed like this, like he would rule all the nine kingdoms, not just you, is all that is keeping you kneeling, all that is keeping you out of your own control and under his.

Unbuckling straps, letting the leather slide open, to reveal bare chest and leather pants, he stares you down. You take his stillness as your cue to run your hands up his thighs, over leather, to outline of cock beneath. He wants you to look for his surprise.

He watches you unbuttoning him, eyes half-closed with anticipation, smirk playing on his lips, horns still gracing his head. Your movements become frantic from your battle with buttons - so many buttons. Finally, the last of the buttons comes undone and you all but rip the leather from him.

Panties. He’s wearing panties - your panties. Your favourite green panties. You don’t know if you’re turned on more by the silken material taking his hard cock’s outline, or the thought of him nestled in your underwear, or the idea that this god finds your underwear so enticing he felt the need to wear them but the sight of it surely is something to behold. You’re hungry for him, you want to thank him for his little surprise.

Locking eyes with him you run your fingers over the form of him, and he places a hand on your head, tightening his fist in your hair, reminding you of the balance of dominance; that he is the powerful one. You pull his cock from your panties - loving that they are your panties - and start lightly stroking up and down his shaft. He pushes your head closer to him. You lick from his cock’s base to its tip, tongue circling his head. He smiles his dangerous smile watching you take him into your mouth, a silent reminder of his intentions, a reminder that he likes you to worship him.

Deeper, you suck him in, hand at the base of his erection gripping and rubbing, saliva starting to drip from the edges of your lips, the salty taste of precum seeping onto your flattened tongue. Your breathing is becoming erratic in effort and arousal. He tightens his grip on your hair, thrusting into your mouth. You are his, he is not yours.

He pulls out of your mouth and you whimper to be away from him only to be thrown by your hair onto his throne, facing its back, one knee only just supporting your weight. You lift your other knee to join its sister on the seat, position your hands the cold metal armrests, bracing yourself. You hear the heavy metallic clattering of what must have been his horned helmet being banished to the floor, along with his pretentions of calm - he wants to be in you, he wants to have you, and he does not want to wait.

Barely audible footsteps as he approaches, he regains the handful of hair, fingertips of his other hand digging into your hip, he slides his cock between your legs, against your swollen lips through the thin fabric of your dress. You move with him trying to get closer. He pulls your head to meet his, his teeth meet your neck, and you let out a loud, guttural moan, pushing harder against his hips.

He’s finding it hard to control himself. In a more frenzied move than he’d intended, he released your hip from his grasp, sliding his hand down your ass to the hem of your dress, he throws it over your back, forcing his cock up and went it is released to slap down on your ass. You let out a muted squeak of delight - you like when he starts to lose it. He chuckles lightly as he realizes he is the only one wearing your underwear. His hand slips of your hair to your throat. He pulls you further up squeezing lightly. His hair, now freed tickles your neck and your cheek, his unsteady breath in your ear.

“Do you want to me to fuck you?” The hand that is not at your throat drifts down your body and under the front of your dress. His fingers dance around your entrance. You simply moan in response and buck against his fingers. “Tell me you want to me inside you, you mewling quim,” he instructs, louder this time. Mumblings of his name. “I want you,” he pauses his growl to slip a couple of fingers into you, stirring another moan from you. “to beg for my cock.”

A series of yesses and pleases and sirs and Lokis fall from your lips while you arch onto him. He pulls his fingers from your wet hole, to your clit. He plunges himself into you, his girth stretching you further than you are prepared for, straddling the line between pleasure and pain, and you find yourself chanting his name like your life depends on it. He doesn’t bother with gentility after his first thrust and you cannot get enough, bringing yourself harder onto his cock, moving with his rhythm.

Fingers wet from playing with you, and you incoherent and feeling the stirrings of your orgasm forming deep in your loins, he presses his fingers to your other entrance, and still pounding into you.

“You, Kitten, are going to scream for me. You will worship me.” he tells you, over the wet slapping of your sweaty bodies connecting. He presses his middle finger into your ass, as far as he can get it before pulling it out and back in, letting it find a rhythm of its own. And you do scream, your climax drawing closer by the second. He lets you adjust before slipping another finger in.

You are beyond the point of no return when he starts moaning, and slamming harder into you. Both of you get louder and faster, and your walls tighten and your fingers clutch at anything you can get hold of, and you’re shaking under the power of your orgasm and his grip on your throat get tighter.

The two of you have become a calamity of sound and movement when he clenches against you and thrusts one last time, stillness hovering over you. He pulls himself out of your openings muttering obscenities under his breath in a language you don’t speak. He composes himself and watches as you collapse into his throne. Just watches what a mess he’s made you.


End file.
